


Oh These Moments

by hoperise



Category: Pushing Daisies
Genre: Body Language, Drunk Ned, F/M, Wedding Fluff, Why can't these dorks be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3989854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoperise/pseuds/hoperise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Eugene's wedding, Ned is a little tipsy. Chuck watches and wonders which of Ned's quirks come from his personality and which are defense mechanisms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh These Moments

Muffled voices sounded through the courtyard.

Lifting her gaze from her book, Chuck glanced at the clock. It was slightly after two a.m., but she’d always been a bit of a night owl. Besides, she’d promised to wait up for the return of her errant white knight.

The voices drew closer, perhaps a smidge louder than acceptable for this hour, but she figured that the neighbours might give them grace considering it was the weekend. One of the voices was singing - loudly, and a little off-key. She caught a couple of words here and there, but Hindi had never been her strong suit.

Yep, those were her boys coming home.

Smiling a little to herself, Chuck reflexively slid her bookmark in place and set it on the coffee table. Moving to the entryway, she swung the door open right before the singer began another rendition of the chorus.

Emerson, his face set in lines of long-suffering endurance, had one arm slung around the pie maker’s shoulders to support him, his other hand clutching a pair of men’s shoes.

Ned.. had seen sharper days. The smart green kurta he’d left the apartment in was a little rumpled and his bare toes poked out from under his beige pyjama. He smelled like incense and something a little bit stronger. His face was flushed, his hair a little mussed. When Ned saw her, his eyes brightened and he offered her that smile like a sunrise. “Humsafar!”

“That one is Chuck, knucklehead.” Emerson grumbled, dropping Ned’s shoes on the ground.

Ned’s head rolled easily to face his companion. “I know that, judgey-judge. Eugene taught me some Hindi tonight. It means…” He pursed his lips and looked up. “My one, my love.. I f'rget. Something nice.”

Bringing a hand to cover her mouth, Chuck stifled a giggle. She’d never seen Ned - well, drunk before. His self-control could (and had) put a nun to shame. “Did you have a good time, then?”

He took careful steps away from Emerson, his eyes wide and arms hanging loose at his side. “Yeah! You’d’ve loved it, Chuck - Santi’s family was so nice and everyone was all dressed up and they showed me some bhangra dances - and the food!” Leaning one hand against the wall, Ned let his head loll back and sighed contentedly. The vegetarian menu must have agreed with him, then. Ned rarely dined out as his menu options in this small town were typically limited to two salads and a mediocre rice dish.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Chuck said, grinning widely.

Emerson rolled his eyes. “It took some of the bride’s friends sneaking him a few more than he’d intended, but he got there.”

Looking up with astonishment, Ned furrowed his brow. “They said it was for luck! I wanted to be.. I wanted to do the p'lite thing, but- Santi’s got a lotta sisters!”

“Sisters. Heh. Somebody wanted some luck, but it sure wasn’t the bride.” Shaking his head, Emerson snorted. “You got this, Dead Girl?”

Chuck nodded, eyeing her woefully naive boyfriend as he toddled down the hallway. “Thanks for bringing him back in one piece, Emerson.”

Waving a hand in acknowledgement, Emerson departed.

She found a fragrant Ned in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water and humming the chorus to the wedding song to himself, mumbling the words he’d forgotten. " _Pal pal pal pal har pal har pal, ka-_ hmmmhmm-hmm-mm _pal har pal har pal._ "

Her lips parted, but she restrained a ready comment - content to watch.

Drunk Ned was such a rare specimen to observe. Maybe it was the tousle of his hair or the red in his face, but he seemed younger. More relaxed.

Chuck met Ned again after almost twenty years apart. As kids in their front yards, she’d made a game out of drawing Ned from his shell. Though he’d been a quiet kid, older Ned was nearly a recluse. He was painfully hesitant and more than a little secretive.

She had always assumed that his reticence was a personality quirk, but seeing Ned like this…

Though she’d always gotten used to looking up when she spoke to him, Ned seemed to stand a bit taller (though unsteadily) tonight - and she realized in a bizarre moment of clarity that this was Ned’s true height. For as long as she’d known him, he’d been habitually slouching. Instead, his shoulders settled back, drawing her wandering eye to the elaborate golden embroidery surrounding his plunging neckline. His arms hung loose at his sides as he puttered about the kitchen with an easy smile lingering about the corners of his lips, putting away the dishes she’d quickly washed following her dinner for one.

The deep forest green of his kurta contrasted well with his dusty brown hair, but it was not just the richness of the colour that struck her, it was the presence of it. As a rule, Ned’s wardrobe was pretty monochromatic.

She wondered when he’d stopped wearing colours.

She wondered when he stopped moving like this, relaxed and comfortable in his own skin.

She wondered when he’d adjusted his body language to make himself seem smaller, less of a threat.

Did he wander around with his hands clasped behind his back when she wasn’t there? Was it a practical shift, born from wanting to protect her and Digby, or was it a defense mechanism?

Chuck swallowed her questions for the moment. She kept her distance from his free-swinging hands and listened to Ned’s story about getting arrested with Eugene back in boarding school.

In the morning they could have a difficult conversation. For tonight, her concerns would rest behind a gentle smile. She’d listen to his stories and one last off-key rendition of a Hindi love song, and send him to bed.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're wondering, the song Ned is singing is "Pal Pal Har Pal" from Lage Raho Munna Bhai. It is absolutely adorable and sounds like it would fit on the Pushing Daisies soundtrack. Defs look it up.
> 
> This was based off a tumblr prompt to write a fic incorporating my headcanons about Ned's body language. You can find me on tumblr as canadican if you're interested in more.


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